


Crestfallen

by WatanabeMaya



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Character Death, M/M, Sickfic, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatanabeMaya/pseuds/WatanabeMaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shadows dance alongside the setting sun, a final tear escapes his amethyst eyes; one last breath is released, until finally, he lets go. "Find me." / PruCan tragi-fic. Human names used.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crestfallen

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

Splashes of orange paint the sky as dashes of pale violet are reflected in the listless gaze of deep amethyst. Blonde hair swaying like reeds with the breeze, a single shadow sits alone in the silence.  
  
 _Find me._  
  
The wind blows strongly as a boy rests his head top the railings of an old apartment building. A shiver runs through his hunched frame, as the young Canadian pulls the coat tighter around the small of his back.  
  
Memories tighten his chest as a lump forms in his throat and tears well up in his eyes.  
  
He thinks of ruby red gems, blazing brightly like the fire, shining like the sun in those hot summer afternoons spent together on the couch. He thinks of bright yellow feathers, loyally accompanying its master in the same way furry white would stay alongside him. He thinks of pearl white teeth, curved up in the shape of his perpetual, smug grin and goofy, crooked smile.  
  
He thinks of warm hands touching and gripping and hugging and holding him oh so tightly, and of pale white skin gently cradling his petite frame.  
  
He remembers the sound of his voice, husky and gruff, cooing lovingly in his ears.  
  
 _"Hey, Matt, you look nice today."_  
  
(More and more, you're drawing me in.)   
  
He remembers the sound of his voice, concern laden thickly over the façade of his carefree nature.  
  
 _"Hey, Matt, don't stay up there too long. You'll catch a cold."_  
  
(So come down and stay here, where it's warm, with me.)   
  
He remembers the sound of his voice, soft and hushed and in so much pain – and yet, still thinking of putting Matthew's wellbeing as his first priority.  
  
 _"Hey, Matt, it's alright. I'm gonna be alright, so don't cry now."_  
  
(Your pained face hurts me more than this disease ever could.)   
  
He remembers the sound of his voice, coarse and strained – barely above a whisper as his thumb wipes Matthew's wet cheeks as he breathes his last breath.  
  
 _"Hey, Matt –"_  
  
(I love you, you know.)   
  
He'll never hear him say those words again.  
  
He's gone now.  
  
He left him.  
  
And so Matthew remains, this fragile little boy, lost and alone in the cold, cruel world.  
  
 _Find me._  
  
His nose clogs up as the rivets begin to flow, cascading down his cheeks, which were flushed from the cold. Wet lashes flutter with the breeze as the blonde sets his violet eyes to a close.  
  
 _Find me._  
  
A chuckle escapes him; chapped lips curling up to form a small, sad smile. Words fall on his lips – raw, cracked, and broken, like the hoarseness of his voice.  
  
"Hey, Gil."  
  
 _(I loved you too, you know.)_  
  
Shadows dance alongside the setting sun, as his own falls into the plunges of the dusk.  
  
Figure tipping over from the railings, a final tear escapes his amethyst eyes. One last breath is released. A jump.  
  
He lets go.  
  
 _"Find me."_


End file.
